Of Little Faith

I was doing my deep breathing, trying desperately not to freak out. I was listening, processing, and searching desperately for words. I had so many questions, but the words were jumbled and slow to form sentences. Sitting in a dimly lit room in a hospital gown, looking at the radiologist and nurse as they gave me the results of the mammogram, the overwhelming thought in the forefront of my mind was simply don’t pass out; don’t have a panic attack; keep breathing. “New calcifications.” “I don’t want to sugar coat this.” “I believe in being upfront.” “You should prepare yourself.” These were the words I was hearing. What on earth is a calcification? But there could be benign causes, right? I’m only 34 years old. Don’t you know that I have two little girls at home? I don’t have any risk factors, though. I exercise regularly. I don’t drink alcohol or caffeine. I eat my vegetables for crying out loud! The nurse scheduled the biopsy and handed me some pamphlets. I politely explained that I wouldn’t be reading them because “my anxiety couldn’t handle it.” (I’ve since learned not to claim it as my own, but rather to refer to it as something with which I sometimes struggle.) I knew all too well the dangers of googling symptoms. That’s rule number one if you struggle with anxiety – especially health anxiety. Never, EVER google symptoms…or diseases…or disorders.. She put them in my hand anyway with a little pat and said, “just in case.” Have you been there? Have you ever found yourself confronted with a reality that was just too much for your mind to even comprehend? Somehow all at once you feel everything, you fast forward into the future and see so many possible endings, and yet at the same time you are completely numb and dumbfounded. Nothing short of a miracle, I was somehow able to drive myself home. Praying…questioning…reasoning...trying to convince myself that surely this would prove to be benign. Then a song came on the radio that just wrecked me to the core – “Only Jesus” by Casting Crowns. “I don’t want to leave a legacy, I don’t care if they remember me, only Jesus.” It was the best and worst song that could have possibly come on in that moment. My life’s greatest prayer had always been for the salvation of my children, and it was them I was thinking about at that point. My oldest was about to turn eight years old, and my youngest had just turned five about a week before. Tears quickly became sobs which turned into screams. Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words. (Romans 8:26) When I got home and told my husband all that had happened, he quickly identified our most pressing concern – my mental health, given this news. He knew how quickly I could unravel and how agonizing the next two weeks would be awaiting a biopsy. My mission, he said, would be to control my thoughts. He could take care of me, the kids, our home, all things external, but only I could take care of my mind. I knew he was right.